One Evening In Nuremburg LandaHellstrom Slash!
by DeborahKLA
Summary: It's Nuremburg in 1933, during the first Nuremburg Rally. A 16-year-old Dieter Hellstrom is eagerly cruising the streets for SS Schnitzel. He starts following a handsome Haupsturmführer, who is very much aware of his presence...WARNING - NC-17


**One Evening in Nuremburg**

**SLASH - Landa/Hellstrom**

**More Slashy PUP (Pure Unadulterated Porn)!  
Includes Uniform & Boot Kink!**

**WARNING: Rated NC-17 for Explicit Gay Sex!**

_Ah, more slash at last, with my favorite pairing: Landa/Hellstrom. For some time now I've wanted to write a fic about a chance encounter between Hellstrom & Landa when both were younger. Linndechir and I were at one point discussing our disgusting, immoral and politically incorrect shared appetite for Older Men/Teenage Boy porn couplings. So I decided to write this story. It takes place in Nuremburg in 1933, during the first Nuremburg Rally, when a 16-year-old Dieter is eagerly prowling the streets, cruising for SS Schnitzel. He starts following a handsome _Haupsturmführer_, who is very much aware of his presence. I hope you enjoy this story; I apologize for the very lame title. Please be sure to leave a review or comment. I thrive on feedback!_

_Rated NC-17 for adult themes and strong sexual content; includes uniform & boot kink. The characters of Hans Landa and Dieter Hellstrom are the sole property of Quentin Tarantino. This story is for entertainment purposes only._

_NOTE: The _Sicherheitsdienst_ is the _SD_, the Security Service/Intelligence & Investigative Branch of the _Schutzstaffel (SS)._ As a detective, Landa would surely have been with the _SD_._

Landa smiled. The boy had been following him for several blocks now, no doubt dazzled by his uniform. He'd seen it before. Indeed, years ago he had been that boy. He had followed an older man—usually a soldier—for blocks in the desperate hope that he might eventually turn round and, with a warm smile, offer the promise of a kiss, a caress and much, much more.

But he couldn't remember ever following a man—or having been followed—for so long and so far. He was curious to see how long the lad would hold out before either approaching him or giving up altogether. Landa hoped it would be the former. In the few glimpses he'd caught of his stalker, he'd seen an unusually beautiful, lanky boy of about 15 – 16 years, with tousled brown hair, sharp blue eyes and a lovely, thin red mouth. It was a mouth he'd like to ravish, and the very thought of doing so had already given him an erection that was straining for attention.

But Landa was never a patient man, so when he rounded the next corner, he decided to take matters into his own hands. When the boy rounded the corner he nearly ran into the dapper SD _Offizier_, now leaning against the wall nonchalantly to face him.

"Did you need assistance, young man?"

Surprisingly, the boy wasn't embarrassed about being caught in the act of pursuit. The pretty mouth broke into a mildly sardonic smile, which only made it prettier.

"Well?"

"My apologies, Herr _Haupsturmführer_. I never meant to disturb you."

Landa was impressed that the boy was knowledgeable enough to recognize his rank, but his expression remained neutral and his gaze never wavered.

"You have a rather odd way of not doing so," he told the boy, "following me for 50 blocks."

The lad surprised him again with a grin so lascivious that his intentions were more than obvious. Landa's brow lifted in mock astonishment, and then he smiled.

"You know what you want, don't you?"

"Ja, Herr _Haupsturmführer_."

"And I sense you're someone who's quite used to getting it."

"Yes, sir." In a bold move the boy pulled an open packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and held it out to Landa. He took one without reaction, watched the boy take one himself. He was about to pull his lighter from his pocket when the boy clicked open his own lighter and offered the flame to him. Landa leaned forward and took the light, gazing into the young man's eyes as he did so.

"Thank you, my boy," he said, nodding politely. The two stood in silence for a few minutes as they smoked, but their eyes never left each other. Landa regarded the boy closely. He was a handsome young devil, trying hard to play the part of a man of the world, and he had just the right touch of arrogant insolence to make the charade vastly entertaining. These qualities combined with the freshness of youth made him quite the most irresistible piece of flesh Landa had ever seen.

"Just how old are you?"

"Eighteen, sir."

Landa gave him his most exaggerated cocked eyebrow, expecting the boy to either blush or look sheepish in response, but the youth continued to face him head on with a clear look of determined defiance.

"I'm sixteen," he finally said, not without a note of pride.

Landa smiled. "Very good, my boy. It's always best to be truthful about these things."

He dropped his cigarette to the ground, stamped it out and started to turn away; he hesitated, then gave a quick tilt of his head to the boy.

It was a calculated move, and the message was clear. The lad stamped out his cigarette as well, and followed alongside the handsome _Hauptsturmführer_.

"You're a little young to be smoking," Landa remarked.

"Most boys my age smoke, sir."

"Do they? That's interesting. And your father allows you?"

The boy hesitated for only a moment. "My father's dead, sir. Killed in the war."

"A pity. If the Party had been in existence at that time, we would have ensured his safety. But rest assured, we shall avenge him."

"Yes, sir."

"Is that why you're out here?"

"Sir?"

"Well, you could just as easily have someone your age tonight, couldn't you? I'm sure you must have enjoyed the pleasures of boys your age at some point, isn't that so? After all, a boy usually learns these things from his schoolmates."

"Yes, sir. But I don't want a boy. I want a man. A man like you, sir."

"You flatter me," Landa replied. "And why, precisely, do you desire me?"

"Because you're in the _Sicherheitsdienst_."

"And?"

"The SD are strong. They're smart. They're the best of all. They even wear the best uniforms."

"Ah, so you like my uniform, do you?" He gave an elegant twirl round as though showing it off.

"Yes, sir!" the boy enthusiastically replied.

Landa led him down a deserted street, and then another, even more deserted one. Finally he led the boy into an obscure and darkened alleyway. Halfway down he stopped, leaned back against the wall, then reached out to wrap a hand around the back of the boy's tender neck.

"How soft your skin is," he said in a low voice. "Now tell me what you like about my uniform."

The youth struggled for a moment to catch his breath; Landa could see that he was just as aroused as he. The boy reached out a hand with unusually elegant, long fingers, as if to touch the uniform, but hesitated. Landa nodded his assent and the boy ran his fingers down the woolen cloth. It was rough, but pleasing to the touch; indeed, it felt as powerful as it looked, and the boy was mesmerised by it.

"It makes you look strong," he breathed, "and powerful. Like you could do anything. Win any sport, overpower any man, conquer any nation."

"And you'd like to be worthy of such a uniform, wouldn't you?"

"Very much, Herr _Hauptsturmführer_. More than anything."

"Perhaps you will be, some day. But for now you can prove yourself worthy of me." And with that, Landa drew the boy's head down, forced him to kneel at his feet.

The boy was equally mesmerised by the shine in Landa's freshly polished boots. This time he reached out without hesitation, ran both hands down and then back up the sleek black leather. He looked up at Landa, his eyes both questioning and hungry. Landa smiled and nodded.

The boy knelt forward and, closing his eyes, pressed his lips against one boot, and then the other. He rubbed his nose against them, breathing in the rich, almost intoxicating leather scent. Then he moved closer, extended his tongue, and slowly drew it up the black leather to Landa's knee. Ecstasy.

The boy heard a sharp intake of breath and a rustle. He looked up and watched as the _Offizier_ drew out his hard cock and began stroking it slowly, drawing the foreskin back and forth over the head. The _Offizier_ caught his gaze, but didn't seem in the least embarrassed; if anything, his stroking became more deliberate, more sensuous.

"Don't stop," Landa commanded, his voice husky yet firm. "Continue what you were doing."

Fueled by the sight of the man's erection, the youth stuck out his tongue once more and, still gazing up into the _Offizier's_ eyes, swirled it wildly across the black leather, licking, tasting and at one point even attempting to gnaw and bite it; but the leather was far too taut, and he wasn't able to take hold of it with his teeth.

Landa bit his lip, stroked his cock faster, fucking it with his fist. Ever since he had first donned the SD uniform he had frequently enjoyed stroking himself to climax while a man or boy worshipped his boots. He would ejaculate on the worshipper's head, then casually work his semen into their hair before promptly zipping up and strolling away with nothing more than a dismissive wave.

But Landa had more finesse now—he knew how to both prolong pleasure and increase it. He brought himself close, very close to the edge, and he was right on it when he stopped and skillfully brought what had seemed inevitable to a dead halt. But although he let go of his cock quickly, it still throbbed and oozed.

The boy lifted his head and caught his breath at the sight of the single, milky-white drop that emerged from the tip of the _Offizier_'s cock. He opened his mouth instinctively, parting his red lips just enough to offer Landa a glimpse of his wet, pink tongue. At the sight of that tongue Landa grabbed the lad by the hair and pulled him to his cock. The youth extended his tongue once more, lapping up the drop before engulfing the head with his mouth, eliciting a soft moan from the _Offizier_.

Landa watched the boy's succulent young mouth move forward and back on his cock. It was a sight that never failed to excite him immensely, his cock sliding between the sweet lips of an adolescent boy, fresh-faced and youthful and giving at least the illusion of being untouched, however tarnished he might actually be.

Again Landa wrapped a hand around the back of the boy's neck. He held him fast and began fucking his mouth, his thrusts shallow at first, not wanting to choke the lad. But the boy's throat suddenly opened up, and Landa groaned when his cock slid all the way down until the boy's lips were pressed against the soft curls that surrounded it.

And then Landa felt that narrow throat clutch at his cock, sending the most exquisite, sharp darts of raw sensation up his spine. A harsh gasp erupted from him. He was very close now, and he was aching to ravish that sweet mouth until he came. But another part of him wanted to pull back, to prolong the pleasure even further, to allow himself as much time as possible to thoroughly enjoy this beautiful boy.

Landa gently withdrew from the boy's mouth. The lad looked surprised, then crestfallen. Landa grasped his chin and tilted his head up to look deep into those brilliant blue eyes, now blazing with lust.

"What is your name, young man?"

The boy hesitated for only a moment. "Dieter, mein Herr." He knew that surnames were never given in such encounters, but Dieter was rather surprised that he'd let his real first name slip. He was usually very good at keeping himself hidden, but there was something about this _Hauptsturmführer_ that made him feel wild and reckless.

"It's a good, strong name. Of course you know I cannot tell you mine."

"Ja, mein Herr."

"You may call me _Offizier_. _Hauptsturmführer_ is a bit long and unwieldy, isn't it?"

"Ja, Herr _Offizier_."

"Good boy. Now come here." Landa helped him up until Dieter was standing again. He wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders, pulling him into a comradely embrace, and looked him straight in the eye.

"You've done this often, haven't you, Dieter?"

Dieter hesitated for only a moment. "Ja, Herr _Offizier_."

"And what a handsome boy you are. I imagine you're quite popular."

Dieter smirked. "Ja, mein Herr," he announced with undisguised pride.

"Oh, you believe this is something to be proud of?"

Dieter smirked, but the smirk quickly vanished when Landa grabbed his chin, twisted it and held it fast, distorting that lovely mouth, that perfect visage.

"You take pride in whoring yourself?"

Dieter's face hardened. "Ja, Herr _Offizier_."

Landa let loose of Dieter's chin and chuckled. "Good boy," he said, patting his cheek. "One should always take pride in one's work."

He let his hand linger on Dieter's soft cheek. That soft yet defiant mouth, with its tender red lips—it was too irresistible. Landa leaned forward and kissed him, searchingly, and then with growing hunger.

Dieter was startled at first. None of the other boys or men with whom he'd had sex had ever kissed him. The initial shock quickly wore off, however, and he found himself overcome by the sheer joy of the man's firm lips on his. He sighed with pleasure, opening his mouth for more.

When Landa felt those soft lips part he groaned and thrust his tongue deep inside. Dieter's tongue met his and the kiss became more ardent. Landa grabbed the boy and pushed him against the wall as the kiss grew violent. The _Hauptsturmführer _bit those soft lips, and Dieter tasted blood, tobacco and alcohol in the man's mouth. Landa ran his hands all over Dieter's slender body, pressed his exposed erection against the hard bulge in the boy's pants.

Dieter was gasping for breath now, almost panting as he struggled to match that brutal mouth and probing tongue. The _Hauptsturmführer_ pulled out Dieter's shirt, slid one hand up onto his belly, and began caressing the unusually soft skin there—almost as soft as a woman's, Landa thought. His hand felt cold against that hot skin, and both of them shivered.

That same hand moved farther down, cupped the bulge in the boy's pants, and Dieter moaned in response. Landa pulled back from the kiss then, quickly swiped his tongue against those bruised lips before gazing once again into the boy's now-fevered blue eyes.

"You're very eager, aren't you?" he said, in a voice so low and seductive that Dieter found himself trembling.

"Ja," he breathed, "Herr _Offizier_." He began fumbling with his trousers to free his erection.

Landa roughly pushed Dieter's hands away and unbuttoned the boy's trousers. He slid a hand inside his shorts and drew out his hard cock. Landa felt Dieter tremble at his touch, and he began a slow and deliberate stroking rhythm on that long cock. He leaned in for another kiss.

He was exquisite, this boy—the firm yet soft flesh of youth, the taste of tobacco and blood and cock on his tongue, the way he trembled and moaned while Landa kissed him and stroked his cock. What would it be like to have a creature this sweet in his bed every night?

Landa quickly suppressed a gasp when he felt the boy's hand wrap around his cock and begin mimicking the rhythm of each stroke. Oh, he was not so innocent, this one, not in the way he touched and kissed, but he was utterly delightful, one of the more precious morsels Landa had tasted in his sexual life.

Dieter drew back, panting for breath, and for one extraordinary moment he and Landa locked eyes while listening to their shared rapid breathing. Dieter let his free hand snake back up the _Hauptsturmführer's_ tunic. He slid his fingers along the brass buttons, fondled each medal, badge and ribbon.

Dieter leaned forward and rubbed his nose and mouth against the cloth, inhaling deeply, memorising the _Offizier's_ rich scent, which he would keep deep inside him along with the man's touch, taste and appearance. He would have it with him always, along with all the others that he'd met in dark alleys and toilets, in cinemas and at swimming baths.

Landa unleashed an almost feral growl. He roughly turned Dieter round and shoved him up against the wall, pushed his face into the brick. He pressed up against the boy, pulled down his trousers.

Dieter felt the _Offizier's_ hot breath against his ear, and he groaned when he felt a finger penetrate him. Landa chuckled lightly, licked a path along his earlobe.

"Oh, you delicious slut," he breathed. "You're ready for me, aren't you? You were so sure you'd find me that you prepared yourself for me, didn't you?"

"Ja," Dieter gasped, as a second finger joined the first.

Landa nibbled and nipped at the boy's ear as he roughly shoved both fingers in and out of that hot, slick passage. "You're wide open for me," he breathed.

The fingers were withdrawn and Dieter felt the head of the _Offizier's_ cock press against his entryway, teasing it. He began moaning with urgency, a keening, desperate sound.

A hand clapped over his mouth, stifling those moans, and the thrust that came with it was hard & sharp. He whimpered against that restraining hand.

"Hush, hush now." The voice was both commanding and soothing, yet also thick with lust. "There's a good lad."

Landa held still for a moment, letting Dieter adjust to the sudden invasion. With his free hand he reached down and took hold of the boy's cock once more, teased the oozing head with his thumb.

Gott, the boy clutched him so tightly inside. Landa began to move his hips, slowly at first, then in deeper, more measured thrusts. He felt Dieter's hot breath against his palm. Landa pulled the boy's head sideways and pressed his lips and tongue fiercely against his cheek, licking and sucking at the silky skin there.

He stopped thrusting for a moment, slid his cock slowly all the way inside, and began to grind his hips, his breath heavy. It was sheer torture not to thrust when he needed to so badly, but Landa knew the pleasure would be far greater once he began again. Finally he pulled back and started thrusting savagely, his hips slapping against the boy's buttocks.

Dieter was whimpering loudly now, struggling to breathe behind the _Hauptsturmführer's_ hand. The thick cock inside him ached and burned and yet it felt so good. He was soon lost in a multitude of sensations; the slap of flesh against flesh, the ruthless rub of a thick cockhead against his prostate, the rough, almost painful tugging on his engorged erection, the harsh, hot and labored breathing in his ear that so matched his own and the sweet yet pungent scent of their mingled sweat and secretions.

It happened so suddenly that all Dieter could do was cry out as he spurted over the_ Hauptsturmführer's _powerful fist.

Landa felt the boy clench him from within. He opened his palm to catch the semen that spilled over his hand. He thrust harder as he brought his spunk-filled hand up to the boy's mouth, at the same time removing his stifling palm.

"Eat it, _Schlampe_," he growled roughly. "Eat it, taste yourself…"

When he felt Dieter's warm tongue lick up the semen, Landa gave a last, savage thrust deep inside and grunted heavily as the pleasure seized him. He unleashed his hot sperm with several heavy throbs, filling the boy.

Afterwards Landa lay draped along Dieter's back, his eyes shut, shuddering with each final spasm, breath heavy and hard. He could feel the boy's tongue gliding across his palm to ensure that every last drop of spunk was lapped up.

Landa stayed inside the boy for some time, until his cock grew soft. Then he carefully pulled out, backed away and pulled up his trousers. Dieter was about to pull up his as well when he felt the _Offizier_ gently place a folded handkerchief between his buttocks and against his tender opening. No other man or boy had ever done this, either, and after Dieter pulled up his trousers, he turned to the _Offizier,_ a quizzical look on his face.

Landa smiled. "A little something to catch the spill," he told him as he reached out to pat the boy's cheek once more. He leaned in and looked at him closely. "And perhaps, too, a little souvenir for you, eh? A more tangible memento of me," he said, with a wink and a wicked grin.

Landa straightened his tunic and cap, pulled out his wallet. He drew out several Marks, more than Dieter had ever seen before. Dumbfounded, the boy reached out to take them, tucked them in his pocket. The _Hauptsturmführer's_ appraising gaze returned as he watched.

"Dieter…that's your name, correct?"

Dieter cleared his throat, stood up straight. Landa's smile deepened. The boy had come very close to literally standing at attention for him. He was indeed a treasure.

"Ja, Herr _Offizier_."

"Dieter, I do believe that you will make quite an officer some day," he told him. "And you're right not to waste yourself on the Wehrmacht." He pointed at the skull on his cap. "You want to wear a cap like this, Ja?"

"Ja, mein Herr."

"Then it must be the _Schutzstaffel_ and nothing else. Preferably the _Sicherheitsdienst _since you so enjoy stalking your prey. Remember that, my boy."

"Jawohl, mein Herr, I will."

Landa turned to leave. He hesitated, then turned back to Dieter once more.

"Perhaps, Dieter, we will meet again, under very different circumstances. Auf Wiedersehen, my boy."

He turned and walked away without a backwards glance.

Dieter walked home quickly. The night had grown quite cold and he shivered, not just from the chill but also from the exhilaration he felt. He was determined now. Whatever it took, someday, he would indeed be an _Offizier_ in the _Schutzstaffel_—and in the _Sicherheitsdienst_ division, just as the handsome _Hauptsturmführer_ recommended.

Dieter did keep the handkerchief, unwashed and carefully wrapped in a piece of wax paper. He only brought it out late at night, when he was alone in his bed with the memories that fed his fantasies.

He still had it all those years later when, as an SD _Sturmbannführer_, he opened the door to an office in Paris, ready to meet his new Commanding Officer. He found himself before a never-forgotten face; one that had grown older, of course, but was still handsome, still cunning and clever.

_Standartenführer_ Hans Landa smiled when he saw him.

"Come in my boy," he said.

Dieter stepped in and closed the door behind him.

_**FIN**_


End file.
